


The Dragonborn's Curse

by mermaid1285



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls Online, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim, The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-09
Updated: 2020-04-09
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:08:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23552797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mermaid1285/pseuds/mermaid1285
Summary: Mera has spent her entire life trying to forget her past. She fled at a young age, starting a new life away from the providence that haunts her. When destiny brings her back to Skyrim, she's faced with the realization that as far as you run and as hard as you try, fate has a way of catching up with you.OC Skyrim journey, retelling the original tale with familiar and new faces, a deadly plot for the throne, a romance that was never meant to be, and the Dragonborn deciding her true fate.
Kudos: 3





	1. Of Dawnstar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She wakes up in a cart...almost gets killed. Surprisingly, this isn't the first time this has happened. Though, a dragon crashing her execution is definitely new.

Eyes open. My body lurches and sways like I’m on a boat, but the crunch and scrape of gravel under hooves and wheels challenge that. The piercing light hurts as my eyes adjust, and a low unexpected groan leaves my mouth.

“You’re awake,” someone notes, calm and firm. I try to sit up a bit, breathing more quickly as I look around the cart. Three men are scatter around me, their hands bound in rope. Feeling a sinking in my stomach, I look to my own hands which are tied up just as tight.

"Hey! You! You're finally awake. You were trying to cross the border, right? Walked right into that imperial ambush same as us and that thief over there."  
the voice says again, and I lift my head. The man across from me is dirty and worn, like he had just run through the dust being kicked up behind us. His blonde hair was tied back a bit and his face was relatively open. When I didn’t speak, he made a motion with his hands. That explained the pounding at the base of my head and I cursed internally. 

"Damn you Stormcloaks! Skyrim was fine until you came along. Empire was nice and lazy. If they hadn't been looking for you I could have stolen that horse and been halfway to Hammerfell. You there, you and me shouldn't be here. it's these Stormcloaks the Empire wants.” A peaky man in rags was panting heavily as his narrowed eyes flicked from myself to the man across from me. He was visibly shaking, and the man across from me shook his head with a sad, sour smile.

"We're all brothers and sisters in binds now thief.” he murmured, turning his head away to watch as we moved slowly over the landscape.

From up at the head of the carriage, a female Guard snapped; "Shut up back there!” I flinched and ducked my head, but a frown crossed my lips. The jumpy man diagonal from me jutted out his wrapped and torn up foot towards the hulking man next to me. For the first time, I really sized him up. He wore expensive-looking furs, extravagant and gray. Probably wolf fur, that in itself impressive. His straw-colored hair was half tied up and the other half down. There was what I assumed to be a gag around his mouth, the cloth tight between his teeth. He was tensed like an injured animal waiting for its striking opportunity. Everything about him was brutish and strong. His hands, though tied, were clutched so tightly the dirty knuckles stood bright white.

"What's wrong with him?” The thief asked curiously, tilting his head sideways as he looked him over. The gagged man didn’t even offer him a glance.

"Watch your tongue!” hissed the prisoner across from me. "You're speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak the true High King.” I frowned in confusion, not bothering to hide my stare as I observed him. A million thoughts chased each other in my mind. I hadn’t been to this providence in months, but his name wasn’t that of the king I had known when I had left.

What had taken place in the short months I had been away? 

Stormcloaks..the whispers of rebellion in taverns hadn’t just been idle fantasy. Was it really war? Whatever it was, from the captured beast next to me and the spiteful glances the guards around us shot at him, it wasn’t good.

"Ulfric? The Jarl of Windhelm?” My heart leapt as the thief turned the color of the pale gray cliffs we passed. "You're the leader of the rebellion. If they captured you? Oh gods, where are they taking us?” I tried to steady myself, but his words had awakened a flutter of panic in my breast. I looked all around us, trying to find an escape. I had run before and I would do it again. But as I plotted catapulting myself out of the side of the unstable cart, we started to pass under the stone arches of a village. Our destination, by the way a crowd was starting to gather.

"I don't know where we're going, but Sovengarde awaits.” the prisoner across from me mused, bitter and proud. His mouth was turned up in that same sour expression. He was braver than I. He looked resigned to whatever was coming. Though my body language remained the same, I was certain my eyes betrayed my crushing terror.

The thief started to panic as well, struggling more violently against his binds. It did him no good, his eyes mad with desperation. "No! This can't be happening. This isn't happening!"

"Hey..what village are you from horse thief?” his voice was almost gentle, trying to lull the thief and stop him from his thrashing that shook the cart. He paused briefly, beady eyes narrow.

He stammered; "Why do you care?"

"A Nord's last thoughts should be of home.” The blonde prisoner murmured, a touch of sadness in his tone. The thief blanched, then whimpered;

"Rorikstead, I'm...I'm from Rorikstead.” He sounded almost peaceful, but it was short-lived. The prisoner murmured something comforting about the village, but was quickly cut off. A short, dark-skinned man in metal armor and red approached the cart with grim triumph etched on his face. Dismounting from the cart, one of the two guards nodded respectfully.

"General Tullius sir, the headsman is waiting.” He nodded once in return, only looking at us once and as if loath to do so.

"Good. Let's get this over with!” he said crisply, turning to walk ahead of the cart to wherever it was taking us. The guards on the cart got back up and cracked the reins, the cart slowly picking up again.

"Azura, Mara, Dibella, Kynareth, Akatosh, Divines please help me!” the thief started to wail loudly, almost like a child looking for protection after being caught stealing. Across from me, however, the prisoner sneered.

"Look at him! General Tullius the military governor. And it looks like the Thalmor are with him! Damn elves! I bet they had something to do with this! Ahhh, this is Helgen. I used to be sweet on a girl from here. Wonder if Elod is still making that mead with juniper berries? Still...funny, when I was a boy Imperial walls and towers used to make me feel so safe.” there again was a strong bitterness in his voice, and I wondered what the Empire had done to make him look so…angry.

Gazing around the village, it looked plain and familiar enough. I had probably traded here before, maybe stopped on the outskirts for protection at night. The name, Helgen. I hadn’t spent much time here on my travels. It looked the same as most Skyrim cities, houses and shops made from wood and stone. A little bit of a cobblestone road, tall guard towers and arches that protected the city at either entrance. It wasn’t nearly as magnificent as Whiterun or Solitude, but it was familiar. 

The group of people who had been curiously trailing behind continued to grow. I noticed one boy standing on the edge of his wooden porch, a huge shaggy dog sitting loyally beside him. His eyes widened and he started to bounce on his heels as he watched us. 

"Who are they Pa, where are they going?” the boy’s father turned back in surprise then made a shooing motion with his calloused hands. 

"You need to go inside.” his voice was stern, his mouth set. I blinked in surprise. It was usually encouraged by fathers that their sons watch executions. I remembered passing through villages where most lads were hoisted up on their fathers’ shoulders to watch. Bravery they called it.

“Why, I wanna watch the soldiers.” he insisted, sticking out a lower lip and huffing. His father pointed to the cracked door. 

"Inside the house,” there was no arguing, and the boy retreated inside. He patted his thigh, and his mutt trotted after him eagerly.

No sooner had the door swung shut behind him, the cart halted violently, slamming me against the splintering wooden railing. As I righted myself, I looked around nervously, my hands twitching for any kind of weapon. But I had nothing. None of my knives, no bow. I felt naked, exposed.

"Get these prisoners out of the carts.” one of the guards called, more of them appearing and encircling the wagon, waiting for us to climb out. 

"Why are we stopping?” the horse thief shrilled, he stood then sat, doing this several times until the prisoner across from me sighed in exasperation and nudged hi forward when he stood.

"Why do you think? End of the line. Let's go. Shouldn't keep the gods waiting for us.” his words felt like the icy waterfalls I had stood under on a warm day. So we really were being handed over to die. I shivered once, violently. I had always known death could happen at any time, I had never expected to have to die like this. The thief stumbled down onto the dirt, still babbling.

"No! Wait! We're not rebels!” the prisoner behind him, apparently having exerted all his patience, growled;

"Face your death with some courage, thief.” still, he protested. His eyes flew widely to mine, and the defeat in his eyes was tangible. When I provided nothing, his eyes flashed back to the prisoner, waiting for us to be unloaded after Ulfric, who was shoved to the side with more of the so-called Stormcloak soldiers from another cart.   
"You've got to tell them we weren't with you! This is a mistake!” as he protested, I was moved to stand next to the prisoner. He and the others stood tall, their expressions all holding the same grim determination. I would have admired them perhaps. If I was watching from the safety of my own wooden porch. 

"Step toward the block when we call your name one at a time!” the voice cracked like a whip, and I stumbled up between the prisoner and the horse thief, my head swimming with worry. To my left, the prisoner let out an exasperated sigh.

"Empire loves their damn lists!” he muttered, talking to me without meeting my gaze. I looked around, my breath starting to come out in pants. I dug my nails into the bindings around my wrist, trying to loosen them, trying anything. They held fast.

The Imperial who met us as we clambered down from the wagon held a piece parchment, then started to call out our names. 

"Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm.” his voice rang clear, and several Stormcloaks behind us started to wail, one sinking to their knees in grief at the sight of their leader walking proudly towards the block. Sucking in a shaky breath, the man to my left said to him;

"It has been an honor...Jarl Ulfric.” 

Ignoring their despair, the guard spoke again. Keeping things moving.

"Ralof of Riverwood.” the man to my left tilted his chin up in defiance and followed the jarl. Standing next to him, these two men were equal. Both were going to die, there were no jarls or would-be-kings to an execution axe.

"Lokir of Rorikstead.” the guard trumpeted loudly, and the thief on my right tumbled forward. His eyes were wild and he was looking to every face before him. 

"No! I'm not a rebel. You can't do this!” then, to all of our surprise, the fool took off. He stumbled once but kept running, pushing himself back up. Everyone jumped in surprise, and my heart leapt. It could be my chance to escape, with all the confusion, I could try to sneak off or hide. Or I could run too..but before I had an opening, one guard locked onto me with his eyes. The one who had been reading the names. He eyed me curiously and I cursed, knowing there was no way I could flee now. The captain, who had been standing next to the name-caller snarled;

“Halt!” and Lokir the horse thief screamed over his shoulder that they weren’t going to kill him. Several guards had made a move to go and chase him down, but the captain held up her hand. 

“Archers!” all around us, several Imperial shoulders whipped out bows with precision. One of them nailing the thief in the back with an arrow. He crumpled to the ground, his face and torso slamming into the stone and dirt. His flight ended before he even reached the gates. If he couldn’t make it out..there was no way I could.

Huffing proudly, the captain turned to us. "Anyone else fell like running?” the guard next to her, who had been looking at me glanced down at the parchment, then back up. There was confused frown on his mouth, and beckoned me forward.

"Wait. You there, step forward.” tentatively, I approached him, my breathing had picked up to shallow pants again, but I kept my expression level. Everyone had gone quiet for what seemed like ages as they looked me over. Finally, he asked softly.

"Who are you?” for the first time since I had awoken in the back of the cart, I spoke.

“Mera.” I paused briefly, then lied. “Of Dawnstar.” the captain and guard both exchanged a glance, then looked back at me. 

"Captain, what should we do, she is not on the list.” I felt a bubble of hope boil up inside my chest. Maybe they would let me go. Or commute my sentence to something else, I could escape from any cell or mine they threw me in to. The captain saw the expectance in my face and sneered;  
"Forget the list, she goes to the block.” the bubble burst as quickly as it had formed. I felt my head duck down a bit, like she had struck me. I had stopped panting and now barely drew breath at all. The man holding the parchment gave me a sympathetic look.

"By your orders, Captain.” he turned to me and gave me a sad nod of his head. “You chose a bad time to come back to Skyrim, kinsman.” he sighed, jerking his head to the captain, who had started marching the prisoners ahead of me to the block. "Follow the Captain, prisoner.” I looked back to him, daring to hope for a moment that he would give me some kind of sign. But he turned away, looking grim. He didn’t want to watch.

Ahead of me, the same short man who had met us at the gate approached again. He was flanked by guards as he stepped towards Ulfric, who watched him with what I could assume was a smirk behind his gag.

"Ulfric Stormcloak.. some here in Helgen call you a hero. But a hero doesn't use a power like the voice to murder his king and usurp his throne.” I felt my mouth drop, and a shiver wracked my body. Murder of the high king..no wonder he gave off such an…animalistic feeling. Ulfric grunted through his gag, and I was suddenly immensely grateful he couldn’t unleash whatever he had on the king.

General Tullius curled up his lip in disgust. "You started this war, plunged Skyrim into chaos and now the Empire is going to put you down and restore the peace.” there was fresh excitement and pride in voice, and the Imperials around him banged on their shields or shouted their support. 

Through their cheering, was a sound. 

It echoed and bounced off the mountains and down into the valley where Helgen lay. It sent a feeling through me that shook me to the core. The sound was pure power.

The guard who had spoken to me asked quietly; “What was that?” everyone had heard the noise. It continued to echo, longer than any sound I had heard before. General Tullius was not distracted.

"It's nothing, carry on!” and he went to stand by the Thalmor, who waited on horseback to watch our deaths. The captain nodded, inclining her head in respect. 

"Yes, General Tullius!” she spun around to a priestess. She was dressed in simple brown robes, her head covered in a hood. She approached us timidly, coming to stand next to the block. 

"Give them their last rites.” the captain said, and the priestess raised her arms.

"As we commend your souls to Aetherius, blessing of the eight Divines upon you..” her words offered little comfort as I looked down at my bindings. I had stopped believing in gods years ago. Apparently others agreed with me. Next to the other cart, one of the Stormcloak prisoners yelled, interrupting her;

"For the love of Talos shut up and let's get this over with!” he was pushed forward to the block. The priestess stopped mid-sentence, looking mildly insulted.

"...Nirn our beloved...as you wish!” she muttered something disgruntled and moved back a few paces. The Stormcloak solider who approached the block knelt and placed his head on the bloody wood. I was impressed by his lack of fear..at the same time he was arrogant.

"Come on! I haven't got all morning! My ancestors are smiling at me Imperials, can you say the same?” those were the last words he spoke before the swing of the axe took of his head in one blow. My stomach bottomed out and I flinched, but I remained even in my expression. From behind me, one of the soldiers fell to the ground.

"You Imperial bastards!” she cried, being flung back up to her feet by the guards around her. The crowd onlookers jeered at the solider as his body was removed from the block and shoved into another small cart. 

“Justice!” one Nord roared. Another cried, "Death to the Stormclaoks!” they continued to cheer their approval as the block was re-adjusted for the next unlucky soul. Next to me, Ralof murmured;

"As fearless in death as he was in life.” he ducked his head, his lips moving in a silent farewell to his comrade. The captain looked back to us, and slowly raised a hand to point at…me.

"Next, the Nord girl!” all the air left my lungs and I almost let out a whimper. Straightening myself, I figured it would be best to face whatever lay ahead with some dignity. Sadness, not for myself, but for Ahkari, Ra’jhera and the rest of my family.

Again, there was a sound. This time it sounded closer, louder. It reminded me of some kind of animal cry, but unlike anything I had heard before. Yet at the same time, it was strangely…recognizable. 

"There it is again, did you hear that?” my guard said again, crumpling the parchment in his hands as he raised it over his eyes to see better in the light. The captain, trying to break everyone out of the trance the animal call had caused, shouted loudly.

"I said next prisoner!” and she gave me a shove, hurrying me towards the block. I faltered, but didn’t fall. Gazing at the block, I started to approach it.

"To the block, Prisoner nice and easy.” my guard’s voice was almost comforting. I knelt and placed my head against the wooden block, sticky with blood, my stomach heaving. I laid my head on my side so I face the executioner. He was picking up his axe. As I braced myself, whispering a final goodbye to my loved ones, I saw it for the first time.

"What in Oblivion is that?” Someone screamed.

"Sentries! What do you see?” behind the executioner, a huge shape soared behind the tower at incredible speed. Even at a distance away, it was the largest animal I had ever seen. Larger than the mammoths and giants that roamed the valley near Whiterun. Its color was dark as ebony ore and just as reflective in the sunlight. I watched in a daze as it gracefully spun once and disappeared behind the tall stone watchtower. 

"It's in the clouds!” someone yelled, panic starting to ensue around me as guards ran by. The executioner didn’t notice them, his arms raising with the axe in hand. I almost closed my eyes. If I had, I would have missed the huge creature that slammed into the top of the watchtower. The force of impact knocked the headsman to the ground in front of me as a shower of crushed rock and dirt fell around us. It leaned back and opened its mouth. Behind me, someone screamed;

"A dragon!”


	2. Take the Leap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How do you avoid being burned?

I awoke to horrified screams and licking flames.

Standing was nearly impossible, my legs were weak from the force of impact when I was thrown. Shakily, I was able to struggle to my feet. Some of my clothes were singed and blackened, but the bindings on my hands remained strong. 

I started looking around, trying to locate wherever the beast had gone while trying to break through the rope.

“Damn it…come ON!” I swore loudly, whipping my head around to try and find anything to cut through, when I saw Ralof and the Stormcloaks. They were running for their lives with expressions that might have been laughable if the circumstances were different. 

Overhead I heard the same unbearable roar. It was so violent it shook the ground, almost knocking me down again. I must have made some kind of noise, for Ralof caught my eye. 

“Over here, kinsman! If you want to live!” he yelled, running into the safety of a crumbling watchtower. I almost didn’t go in, looking to try my luck towards towering trees that had sheltered me plenty of times. They called to me, beckoning me away from whatever chaotic hell I had landed myself in. My heart ached to disappear into them, and as I contemplated battling the flames to reach the shade, Ralof’s bark brought me back.

“Mera!” startled he knew my name, I automatically trotted towards the tower. Throwing myself inside, I rolled against the floor and struck the base of the stairs. Groaning, I coughed loudly. The smoke and the shock of having my breath knocked out of me left me trembling slightly.

Inside the nearly destroyed tower were the remaining Stormcloak soldiers, Ralof and to my surprise, Ulfric. He watched from the doorway with an awed and…hungry expression. It made me uneasy, the way he looked at the destruction and watched the circling terror above.

“A dragon..can it really be so?” someone whispered, dissolving into a coughing fit. 

Ralof looked to the jarl with the utmost respect. “Jarl Ulfric, what is that thing? Could the legends be true, my lord?” he asked, wetting his cracked lips with his tongue. 

Ulfric stepped away from the doorway and shut the wooden door forcefully. As if that would keep out a dragon. He started to move to the center of the room. I noticed that his large cloak of wolfskin was missing from earlier.

“Legends don’t burn down villages.” he said firmly, running his thick fingers through his tattered hair. Turning to the winding staircase that led further up the tower, he yelled:

“We need to move, now!” his authority at that moment wasn’t to be questioned, and Ralof immediately started to shoo me up the stairs. I leaned against the wall, wanting to stop to try and catch my breath, but he urged me forward.

“Up the tower, let’s go!” he said again and this time, I started to make my way up the stony tower. I picked up speed as I heard the footsteps behind me, rounding up to the first level. Just as I started to hurry to the next section of stairs, the wall on my right burst through, sending a shower of rocks and rubble flying. 

I fell back against the Stormcloaks behind me, some of who started sprinting back down the stairs. Ralof, Ulfric and I threw ourselves flush against the wall. We watched in a dead silence as the dragon shoved its long head into the tower. As it moved, I couldn’t tell if I was fascinated or repulsed. 

It was easily the most incredible creature I had ever seen. As tall as a mountain and twice as sleek. Covered to head to tail in what looked like armor, sharp and pointed at the ends. Two great horns protruded from the skull and red eyes that blazed like the fire below. Opening its jaw, flames shot out of the mouth between black, razor teeth. 

Satisfied, it started to draw back, the stones starting to give way as it pulled.

Damn thing is going to take most of the wall with it! I thought to myself. 

When it was gone, relief so intense it nearly brought me to my knees swept over me like a wave. I stepped up onto the ruble and looked out, shivering as I watched the tail of the dragon disappear over the top of the tower.

Ralof clambered up beside me and pointed out a burning building below us. The straw roof had fallen inwards at the middle, flames creeping up the scorched beams.

“Do you see the inn down there?” nodding, I turned to face him. “Jump through the roof and keep going!” he said, starting to push me a bit towards the edge of the hole. 

“Let go of me!” I demanded, wrenching myself away from him. “Are you mad? It will be a gods’ miracle if I land anywhere in there not covered by flames!” at my outburst, Ralof chuckled.

“So you do speak.” I frowned at him, opening my mouth to protest, but he pointed again. 

“Go! We’ll follow when we can!” He yelled, starting back down the stairs to the others. Turning back to the open window, I swallowed heavily. I had fallen from worse heights.

How bad could it be?

Backing up several paces, I launched myself out of the hole, landing inside the inn on my hands and knees. The impact didn’t hurt, but my lungs burned from the smoke and my hands were scrapped from the rough wood. Looking around, I spotted a gaping hole in that led out of the inn to what look like safety. Jumping down through it, I ran out into Helgen. 

The village was burning. Every structure had gone up in orange and red flames that fanned out towards the skies. Stone, wood and rubble were abundant as buildings collapsed. Bodies lay charred and scorched as I jogged in a daze up the cobblestone path I had been brought in on.

Up the path ahead of me, the same Imperial guard who had been calling out names during the execution was coaxing a young boy away from a body.

“Come on, lad, over here! You’re doing great.” he promised, and as the boy stumbled over I was startled to see it was the same child who had been told to go inside by his father. I glanced over at the body he had left behind, knowing before I even saw who it was, that it was his Pa.

“Torlof!” he roared at an older guard who had the boy safely behind him. “Keep the lad safe.” 

“Still alive prisoner?” he barked, making me jump. I nodded. “Stay close to me if you want to stay that way.” with that, taking off towards the barracks of the Imperial army. 

—————————————————————————————————————————

We had traveled through the underground barracks for what felt like hours. I wasn’t entirely sure why I had followed the man who had condemned me to die down into this labyrinth of tunnels, but he felt like a better bet than Ralof, who had charged towards the dragon with the Stormcloaks.

Once inside, he had cut my bindings. “Better you face the gods with a sword in your hands.” being handed the weapon was like he had given me back an extra sense I had been missing. Even if it wasn’t the daggers I was used to, it felt a lot better than nothing at all.

The barracks eventually opened up to a moist cave, the relief of something cool was tremendous. We both paused to breathe it in and chase out the lingering ash that clouded our lungs. Following a small stream, we sought the light of day that started to become visible as we walked. 

Putting my hands on either side of mouth of the cave, I hoisted myself out into the sun. What lay ahead of us was the expanse of Skyrim, lush and unforgiving, but preferable to the fiery hell that raged in Helgen. 

Feeling a tug at my rags, the Imperial pulled me down behind a large boulder. Overhead, the loud roar of the dragon echoed as it glided over us and soared into the distance. 

“Dragons..in Skyrim. I must get the news back to the Imperial fleet.” turning to me, he gave me a crooked grin. “You showed real courage back there. You should head to Riverwood. I have a friend there, blacksmith. He can help you with anything you need.”

“Thank you,” I said softly. “For everything.” he nodded. 

“We help our own. These are hard times Skyrim is facing. I can only hope someone would do the same for me.” 

“In Skyrim? I doubt it.” 

And we parted.

*Va-Ri (to be a great leader)


	3. Second Seed Breeze

The winding mountain roads were easy enough to navigate, I had been traveling on them for years. It wasn’t always the safest route, clans of bandits were notorious to wander close to the roads, watching for unsuspecting victims. They weren’t any concern of mine; the caravan had had plenty of encounters with thieves, most of the time it ended in trading and business. Anyone struggling to make a living could speak that language.

Today was peaceful. The month of the Second Seed always brought soft warm winds and blooming wildflowers. Playful foxes chased one another through the trees by the road, and birds sang at the first signs of summer. I couldn’t help the smile that spread over my lips, almost grateful for the Imperial rags that covered me. They allowed the fresh breeze to cool me as I kept up the pace to Riverwood, which I knew wasn’t far away at all. 

I hadn’t been to Riverwood in months, right before I had left Skyrim for Elsweyr. We had stopped on the outskirts to rest and buy supplies for the rest of the journey, the last stop we wanted to make before we crossed the border. I crossed a bridge over a bubbling river that led me into the village.

It was known for the sawmill by the river that flowed past it. Wandering up into the hustling town, children, animals and adults all went about their business, nodding their heads to me in greeting. Some even said “Good afternoon,” which seemed so foreign to me, as most of Skyrim’s people could be as cold and harsh as the winters. Maybe it was because I was without the caravan.

Seeing the sign for blacksmith, I looked down at my rags and grimaced. I had no money to pay for any of the things I needed. The Imperials seemed to have looted me completely. I huffed. No better than the damn bandits.

Hoping the Imperial I had befriended was good on his word, I came up along the house to the forge, knocking my grimy hand on the wood as I approached the blacksmith.

“Any friend of Hadvar’s is a friend of mine,” Alvor the blacksmith kept repeating with a hardy chuckle. He was a brawny man, no doubt from years of working in the forges. His forehead was covered in beads of sweat but he had a smile that took any intimidation from his build away. Though I appreciated his kindness, I just wanted to get what I needed to survive and go. I still had business to attend to, the reason I had come back to Skyrim in the first place.

“He certainly came through for me,” I called over my shoulder, tying up the last of the basic leather armor Alvor had given me. 

“I don’t know what I would have done if he hadn’t helped me escape the city. Probably burn to death.” I tried to joke, but the burning bodies flashed in my mind and I shivered.

“I still…can’t really believe it. I saw what I thought was a phoenix! Something too big to be a regular bird.” as he spoke, he pulled up a leather belt and pack, shoving some daggers and coin into them. I raised a hand, a guilty pit forming in my stomach. I knew better than anyone what kindness could cost a person, even a well-off person, in these hard times.

“I…I don’t need the coin,” I tried to insist, but he grunted and reached to shove some dried meat and berries into the pack. It only made me flush with embarrassment, and I shifted my weight uncomfortably between my feet, encased in thick leather boots.

“It’s a hard world out there, lass.” he said seriously, his jolly face falling a touch. “I’m not about to send you on your way without essentials…though, I would ask you a favor.” 

His words made me flinch and I braced myself, wondering what he might ask of me. Noticing me tense up, he started waving his hands and saying gruffly;

“No..no no, I have a wife, children…no..” I couldn’t help but smile, at his surprise and in relief. 

“What is it, then?”

“Well, the jarl of Whiterun..I doubt he has any idea about all this dragon business..” he paused, as if trying to choose his words carefully, then continued. “The guards here..they won’t believe what you told me. Hell, I barely believe it.” I giggled at his words, moving a hand to cover my mouth to hide my smile. 

“But, he needs to know. Not just for Riverwood’s sake, but everyone’s. Can you take the message to him? Something tells me you’ll be better able to convince him than anyone else. You can keep the coin and more if you do.” 

At the mention of Whiterun, my blood ran cold. The warm summer day suddenly felt as dark as a winter’s night. I hadn’t been inside the gates of Whiterun in years. Automatically, I started to back up, my hip bumping into the sharpening stone.

“Alvor..I’m in a hurry. I have my own affairs to settle...I can’t be expected to run messages like a courier.” the blacksmith barked out a laugh at my defiance, but grew serious as he started to settle down.

“Mera, these are troubled times we live in. You know it as well as I do, it’s in your eyes. I have a feeling in my bones, things aren’t going to get better. They are going to get worse. There’s a storm coming, you can feel it in the air. We all best be prepared when it comes.” I found myself shaking my head and groaning. His words, though dramatic, were true. And with each sentence he swayed me more.

“Fine, I can make a stop in Whiterun.” he started to grin, so I quickly interjected. “But! I want an extra pair of iron gauntlets and some of those apples over there.” I jabbed my thumb in the direction of a basket laying on the front of his porch. Alvor’s laugh roared as he tossed me the gauntlets and apples, both of which I caught in the pack he had given me.


	4. Distant Horizons

The trek to Whiterun was a day and a half from Riverwood on foot. I had left the blacksmith’s shop at a little before sundown and knew I would have to make camp for the night somewhere. Alvor had offered to pay for a room at the local inn, insisting almost, but I wanted to get to Whiterun. The sooner I arrived, the sooner I could leave.

Night started to cast its blanket over the horizon, the sun quickly disappearing behind the mountains not long after I left the quiet village behind. Riverwood had been much kinder to me than I had expected. Perhaps because it was so small. 

About an hour’s distance outside of the village, the final glint of light from the sun was eclipsed by the mountains. Even the flickering of light from the houses behind me was quickly out of sight.

I never really felt afraid at night. I knew enough to keep me safe, stay near the path, don’t interact with strangers, watch for wolves. I didn’t fear wolves. I had always been quick and quiet. They had bigger kills to make anyway. Fireflies glittered along the road, illuminating my path like they were guiding me. I liked to imagine they were the glowing plants and animals Ra’jhera had told in his stories, when I would lay back against the fur spreads and looked up at the stars….

“I got lost once, Khajiit are not used to these cold winds. I stumbled into a cave, frozen and disoriented…I walked for so long I feared I would never find my way out..but that was when I saw them. Biggest mushrooms, bigger than regular. They glowed, like blue moon dust or glacier ice. There were deer, they glowed in spots on their bellies, they did. This one, I had never seen anything like it in all my life.”

Thinking of his soothing voice and Ahkari’s hands braiding my hair made my heart sore. 

Diverting off the cobblestone path, I started up the side of the mountain. Slipping one of my daggers into my hands, I launched myself up onto the rock. My gloved hand snared a place to hold while my dagger dug into the side of the cliff, helping to keep me steady as I adjusted my footing and started to boulder to the side, shimming my body until I was up far enough I could climb with ease. 

I didn’t want to scale the entire mountain, I just wanted to cut some time off my journey by going OVER, not all the way around. The Khajiit were excellent climbers, with balance and grace they easily ascended rocks in their way. I had learned mainly by observation, but that I also had had quite a bit of help. Now I was a natural, climbing with some degree of confidence. I started leaping from ledge to ledge, always taking care to make sure I was safe. 

After several hours, I had built up a sweat. Worried I may not even be close, I hoisted myself up further so I could try to see the lay of the land. Whiterun, in its magnificence could be seen at night from a distance. And to my delight, I could see the outskirts of the walled city. It was a great hulking figure in the distance, solely its own entity on the open, grassy meadow. I could faintly see smoke rising from houses and taverns, candles winking at travelers from the windows. 

Giving a little huff of satisfaction, I brushed some stray hair from my face, grinning proudly at myself. I had shortened the time, at least I could start the walk through the meadow before dawn. 

At least if I was going back, I wasn’t going to be there long. Maybe if I was lucky be in and out in under an hour. Wishful thinking, but hopeful, nonetheless.

Climbing down was easier than getting up the mountain, but twice as dangerous. Unlike the Khajiit, I didn’t have a tail that perfectly balanced every move I made. Every step was calculated and slow, until I was low enough to the ground that I could land fairly easily. The trick now was making it across the meadow without being gored by a mammoth or trampled by a giant. They were notorious for wandering the valley near Whiterun.

I adjusted my pack. At least the path was straightforward enough. The faint glow of homes in the distance was guidance enough. It wasn’t the dangers outside of the city that worried me now. 

It took a couple of hours of walking across the valley to finally reach the shallow stream that ran just outside of the city gate. Not much had changed since the last time I was there, it seemed. 

“Halt!” 

I had been so focused on making it to Whiterun by dawn that I didn’t even think about the implications of showing up in the wee hours of the morning. I probably looked about as trustworthy as if I had shown up with two dangers and a snarky grin.

“No refuge for a wary traveler?” I put on my most vulnerable pout. Despite what I knew about myself, these men only saw a girl. 

“Shuddup, Jururd. Look, it’s just a woman. Probably scared out her wits at this ‘our.” 

“You need to get your priorities in order,” The man next to him look completely affronted by his tone. “It’s past curfew. The jarl isn’t going to want wandering scum getting inside at night.”

I snorted.

“So that means you’re really going to make me wait here? Outside the walls until dawn?” I suppose I wasn’t all that surprised. After all, they’d made sure the caravan couldn’t come in at all. Made sense they were now limiting the flow of traffic into the city even more. Paranoid bastards.

“If you’re willing to wait,” the one called Jururd said. His helmet muffled his voice, but he sounded serious. 

“What if I..pay the toll to get in?” I jingled the coin in my pack, hoping that might get their attention. Most guards in Skyrim could be bought for a piece or two of silver. 

“What do I look like, girl?” I guessed I wasn’t supposed to answer. “The jarl said no strangers in at night. So, if I were you, I’d get real comfortable. Dawn’s a long way off.”

I looked up towards the sky, looking over the moon’s position. Damn it, he was right. I had at least five hours until the sun would rise. It took pretty much all of my self-control not to say something I would regret. 

I was working on trying to figure out the best ways to scale the wall surrounding the city, when from behind us on the path there came a distant uproar. My hand automatically drifted to my hip, where the daggers were. The longer I listened however..the more it sounded like..laughter. Bellowing, gaffing laughter. The kind that made your abdomen ache when you were through.

“Dammit. I’ve never seen a giant-“ peels of laughter and wheezing. “I mean, poor bastard just…” loud snorting. There was a sound which must have been a slap to the back, making sure whoever was laughing didn’t keel over.

“Well, it shouldn’t have been taking sheep. Don’t they have mammoths for their needs? You’d think a mammoth skin would make a better cloak than a sheep for them.” This voice was a woman’s, gruff, matter of fact.

The two guards at the gate straightened up as a group of four rounded the bend. They were all built like giants themselves, carrying large swords on their backs. They were following behind a woman, who looked to be carrying a basket.

Strike that, as they grew closer the smell of blood was hard to ignore. She was carrying the head of a giant. Must have been the one stealing sheep.

“Welcome back, Lady Aela.” 

“Yes, yes. A hero’s welcome.” She waved her hand, shaking her head slightly. Jururd seemed to take that as their que, and both he and his counterpart stepped aside so that the woman could enter the city.

Approaching the gates, she saw me and paused. Now that she was closer, the torchlight illuminated her features.

Dark brown eyes were framed by black lashes. Her skin was a deep, rich brown. She was built like mountain cat, lithe and muscular and obviously strong. There was a scar just underneath her chin that dragged a jagged line along her cheek. Bright blue war paint surrounded her jaw and above her eyes. Her status was clear; a huntress. 

And by the gods, it had been a while since I had been so relieved to see another woman in my entire life. Hopefully she would be more reasonable than the two idiots standing by the gate.

“What’s she doing out here?” The woman asked, her brow raising so the blue paint caught the torchlight.

“Jururd here has decided that I am a threat to the great city of Whiterun and is refusing to let in a woman seeking shelter.” 

The woman’s brown eyes danced in the flames.

“Is he? He’s never been the brighter of the two, now has he.” She paused, and with the giant’s head in one hand she gestured up to the sky. “See those? Those are clouds. Looks like rain. Now you might be able to stand out here all night, but you’re really refusing a lady a night at the inn?” 

Even behind his mask, I could see Jururd’s face pale.

“But..it’s a clear night.” He said.

Aela raised her brow.

“Begging your pardon. That isn’t what…I just mean…Lady Aela you know the law..”

“In fact I do. But she doesn’t look like a band of Stormcloaks or an Argonian assassin, now does she? Poor pup looks like she’s been set out to dry.” She paused briefly, looking expectantly over at me. 

I jingled my coin purse.

“See that? Sounds to me like she needs a place to stay. We’ll take it from here, boys. Why don’t you keep an eye out for giants or wayward dogs.” Aela said, and then made a point of thrusting herself between the two of them and stepping inside the city gates. She gestured for her hunting party to follow, they too made a point of marching inside.

Once they were all in, Aela turned her head back to me, waiting. Triumphant, I looked back over my shoulder at Jururd.

“Have a nice evening.”


	5. Cold on the Cobblestone

Actually stepping back into Whiterun was something I swore to myself I would never do. 

Crossing the valley was essential to getting to the other major cities of the real. Markarth, the dotted cities in the snowy north..you always had to pass through the plains to reach them. A necessary evil.

I’d always wince. Avoid looking too long at the stone walls. But, it was always eventually behind me. Nothing more than a passing landmark in the distance. The closest I had gotten in years was barely near enough to count the buildings. Now, however..

Even with the cover of night it looked the same. I could hear the stream that ran outside the walls flowing downward from Dragonsreach, saw the familiar shape of houses. The tavern that greeted you as soon as you walked through the gates, the smell of trampled lavender from children at place in the garden patches…

Worst of all, I saw the old house. 

It took me by surprise and despite my best efforts I did stop dead in my tracks and just..look at it. There was no light from inside, so either the occupants were asleep or long gone. I hoped for the later.

“Are you going to stand there all night? If so, we should have left you beyond the wall.” Someone mumbled next to me, making me start awake from my daze. One of Aela’s swordsmen stood next to me, looking up towards her as she headed down the cobblestone path. She stopped when she seemed to realize I wasn’t moving.

“I seem to recall that you had something for us.” Aela turned to face me fully, handing off the severed giant’s head to the man who had been on my left. He lumbered away with the head in hand after the others. I stood stiffly while the huntress looked me over expectantly. 

“Well?”

I dug through my purse, pulling out a couple coins from Alvor and holding them outstretched. Aela seemed to find them amusing.

“Your purse sounded heavier than that.”

“Maybe you heard wrong.”

“Maybe you didn’t need to get into the city as badly as you thought you did.” Her eyes darkened, even more than they already were and she began to circle me. It seemed my assessment of a mountain cat wasn’t far off.

“I won’t be able to pay for an inn if I give you any more.” I said calmly, though there was a hinge of irritation to my tone. I didn’t appreciate stepping out of one situation right smack into another one. And who was I thinking that there was such a thing as honor amongst hunters in Skyrim. That was never the case. It seemed that the bit of kindness I had been exposed to by Alvor had made my guard slip.

“There’s a perfectly good bench in the town square. You know, with the right attitude I’m sure Mika at the inn would allow you to sleep near the hearth.” 

That made my blood boil. I wasn’t a dog. And despite her helping me once, I was not about to give more than she was owed. Aela seemed to sense that. While she didn’t draw her weapon, she stopped to the right of me, leaning in a bit closer.

“Well?” she asked calmly. 

I didn’t hesitate. With all the precision that Ra’jhera had taught me, I unsheathed my dagger and held the blade at her hand, the one that she’d been using to reach towards my left with where the coin purse was. She grinned.

“The cat has claws,” Maybe it was the dim lighting, but I could have sworn she was smiling. She made a move to swipe at my purse again, and I caught her hand with the hilt of my dagger, knocking it away and then using my foot to curve behind her ankle, hoping to send her back. 

She anticipated that.

With a quick swipe of her foot, she caught the one I had been using to catch her’s. Toppling to the ground, I rolled and held up the dagger at the ready, expecting her to be on me in an instant for the coin purse. But she wasn’t. She was grinning ear to ear.

“Well, well. I’ll give you this; you’re about two steps ahead of most everyone in this city. Keep that dagger underneath where you keep your purse. Easier access if you’re trying to protect it.” 

I waited a couple of seconds, still in a protective stance on the ground. When she didn’t make any other movements I stood up slowly, brushing off dust from my pants.

“Keep practicing. I like a wench with fire. And you look like you’ve got plenty with that hair of yours,” she raised her brow and inclined her chin towards my hair, making me flush. 

“So…you’re not robbing me, then?”

“No. I’m not. I’m keeping my coin and I’m going on my way. And so are you.” She paused, looking over the coins I had given her before tossing back one to me, keeping the rest. 

“Welcome to Whiterun,” She said, offering me something of a smile. It slowly faded though into a look of curiosity. “If you’re ever looking to improve that aim and earn some coin, come see me. We’re always looking for capable hunters.” 

I didn’t have to ask where to look. The paint on her face told me enough; she was a Companion. 

“I’ll keep that in mind…”

“Aela.”

“Bountiful hunting, Aela.” I gave her a small nod, and the best sort of smile I could. The huntress patted a fist over her chest, then turned to follow the rest of her men up the path and out of sight. I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding, taking a moment to compose myself.

Years ago, the Companions had been honorable. A dedicated band of hunters who protected not only the plains of Whiterun but the entirety of Skyrim. They hunted for honor, glory, and were typically rewarded with coin and admiration. But that was a long time past.

More recently I knew they’d fallen out of favor. A small scandal here, bedding a jarl’s daughter there, colluding with the Thieves’ Guild..they hadn’t exactly kept up their good name in more recent history. 

From what I’d heard on the path, they were always looking to recruit, and something told me I’d made some kind of impression. Which was the last thing I wanted; to be tied to this city in any way.

Damn it all, I didn’t have time for this.

The main road through the city was the same, taking you through different market squares, passing by the Divines’ temple, and past the enormous tree that stood tall in the middle of it all. I saw the familiar sights, drunks half asleep outside a tavern, cattle standing huddled in their pens…

It took me back in the worst way possible.

I hurried past all of it, up the incline of stairs towards the towering presence of the keep. Dragonsreach, with its enormous structure of bone and stone cast shadows on the bridge over the stream as I crossed it. It made the whole structure even more intimidating..and perhaps the most intimidating I’d ever seen. Its only rival was the frozen castle in Windhelm. 

The closer I got, the more apparent it seemed that I was going to deal with a similar situation to the one outside the city. Two guardsmen tensed as I approached, and I made a show to hold out my hands.

“Not holding anything,” I called as I approached. While they didn’t move from the doorway, I was at least thankful that no one shouted ‘halt’ at me this time.

“It’s the middle of the night. You have no business here.”  
“Well actually, I do.” I said, my tone about as exhausted as I felt. “I’ve news for the jarl. Something he can’t ignore.” I noticed how one of them opened their mouths to speak, and I could guess what they had to say.

“No, it’s not about the Stormcloaks. It’s-“

“Then it can wait till dawn.”

“If you’d let me finish-“ I hissed, doing my best to keep my temper under control. “It can’t. I’ve been sent from Riverwood. Alvor the blacksmith.” I waited for some kind of recognition from them, but that didn’t seem to be the case. I sighed and continued.

“He wanted the jarl to know that there was a dragon sighting. Well, not just a sighting. The dragon burned Helgen to the ground. The city doesn’t exist anymore.”

Both guards blinked. It would have been amusing if I wasn’t standing out in the cold night air, in a city I despised in the morning hours. One actually laughed aloud.

“Are you out of your gob? You hit yer head on your way out of the Bannered Mare?” he snorted aloud, shaking his head. The fool had the audacity to double over laughing while the other one suppressed snorts.

“Come now. You’ve probably had too much to drink. Why don’t you sleep it off?...” he asked, reaching out towards me, and I nearly flung the man off of me in rage. 

“Listen here, you prick. The only reason I’m here is because I owe a debt to Riverwood’s blacksmith. If it wasn’t for him, I’d let you all burn! Wouldn’t give a damn at all!” My temper continued to rise, heat rushing through me. Suddenly the night air wasn’t nearly as chilly. 

“But I’m no liar. And I will deliver this message to the jarl. You want to stand in my way? Fine. I’ll get it to him, one way or-“ my voice was drowned out at the sound of feet pounding the cobblestone behind us. The guards straightened further, looking behind me. I spun around too, demanding that the Divines explain to me how I’d landed myself in such a situation..

There were three people making their way over the bridge, headed swiftly for the keep. I recognized one. Aela strode with a look of grim determination. In front of her, a tall man not much older than her. His brown hair was pulled back into a ponytail, his lips pursed. Leading the two of them was someone who carried himself with immense importance. He was significantly older than the two of them, carrying the helmet of a wolf in his left hand.

“Stand aside. We’ve just received word from our sentries that they’ve spotted…something. It just flew over the mountains. Bigger than a mammoth. Damn thing screamed like a banshee-“

I turned to look at the guards, my expression all kinds of smug. The guard that had been laughing shuffled uncomfortably in front of me. 

“You may present this to the jarl.”


End file.
